A First Time For Everything
by Romen
Summary: There was a first time for Bender to have a permanent girlfriend, a first time to wear a tie, and a first time to go to a homecoming dance...which may be the last thing he does. Claire/Bender. Takes place in the fall instead of the spring.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is just a short two-shot about Bender and Claire. It'll have a speck of Allison/Andy next chapter, but in this one…not a trace, really. I hope you enjoy!! Please review, flame, constructive criticism is preferable but whatever floats your boat.

Romen~

Disclaimer: I own no one but Mark. Lucky me. *sarcasm*

**Chapter One**

Bender felt sick. He wasn't sure if it was from the drinks he'd had last night or Claire's terrible hints.

"I think it's so sweet that Andy is taking Allison to homecoming," she gushed over the phone.

"Uh-huh."

"I saw her at the mall this weekend, looking for a dress. I shopped around with her for a while…I would have gotten one myself but…yeah."

He smirked. "Yeah."

Why wouldn't she just come out and ask him? He knew what he'd tell her. He couldn't wait to crush her hopes.

"Look, Bender…I'm going to the homecoming dance tomorrow night," she began.

"I see where this is going," he interrupted smugly. "No Claire. No no no NO."

"John, why not?" she whined. He could see her pouty face vividly. It made him smile.

"Because," he replied, mimicking her tone, "homecoming is a lame ass mob of geeks, jocks and spoiled shits. I don't have time to waste."

"Bender, I went to that dreadful heavy metal concert with you…"

He laughed, remembering. She'd had her hands over her ears most of the time, staring at him in amazement. "You call this music?" she'd shouted over the torrent of screaming. Her reaction was more interesting than the actual show. The more enthusiastic he became, the more astounded she was. Finally he'd jumped into the mosh pit, dragging her with him. "JOHN!" she screamed. At first he was worried she was hurt, but then he saw she was smiling.

She liked it, she just didn't know it.

"Well if you're gonna be that way, fine. I just thought I'd let you know, because Mark asked me –"

"Who's Mark?"

"Just some guy in my chem class. But he seems pretty nice, and I don't want to go alone. I want someone to dance with."

"Well if you're asking my permission don't even bother. I don't give a damn who you go with," he snapped, wishing he didn't sound so riled.

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not angry! But I'm not going to homecoming!"

"Okay, you don't have to! I never said you did! I just thought I'd ask!" Her voice was thick with emotion. It made his stomach twist painfully. He regretted his outburst.

There was a long period of silence.

"Bender, I've gotta go." Now her voice was monotone, void of all signs of life.

"Bye Cherry."

There was a click, and she was gone.

(Space)

The next morning Claire didn't meet him in the court yard like usual. He scowled. Pissy brat, she was still mad about last night. Well he wasn't going! She would just have to live with it. She couldn't always get her way.

He didn't see her during lunch. They alternated between sitting with each other's crowds. Today was his turn to eat with her friends; he dreaded those days. They all looked down their noses at him. He made it a priority to make each of them squirm before the bell rang. When he crept over to their table, she wasn't there. He backed away, confused. Maybe she hadn't made it through the line yet. He sat alone at a corner table, spread out along the bench while he waited for her to show. Fifteen minutes went by; no Cherry.

"She's way pissed at you."

He tried not to whirl around. It was difficult. Allison was sitting beside him, hands tucked under her chin, eyes hidden behind thick bangs. She was cute in a crazy sort of way. He wondered if she'd own twenty cats when she was an old lady.

"Who?" he asked pointedly. He never ignored Allison; he wasn't rude to her either. Maybe it was because he thought he was better than her. Maybe it was because she was just so open.

"Claire. I ran into her this morning."

"She'll get over it."

"She may just get over you."

That got his attention. He swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ooooh, I shouldn't say." Her voice didn't trail off, but increased in pitch until it wasn't audible to human ears.

He wasn't going to try to press the information out of her. He couldn't look upset. Last thing he needed was Allison running and telling Claire that he actually cared.

"Thinks she too good for me, huh?" he managed to say, pulling at a snag on his gloves.

"That's what she acts like, but that's not it." She leaned in confidentially. "She thinks you're not putting in enough."

"Putting in enough what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Enough effort. Like you're not meeting her halfway."

"What does that even mean?" he exclaimed. "Damn! What is wrong with women?"

"Exactly what's wrong with men. We're all just human."

"This is just a plot to get me to go to the dance…"

"The dance is just part of it."

He was more than ticked. How could she say he wasn't putting in enough effort? He'd given up dope for her! He remembered the day he was supposed to come over to her house for dinner. He'd been nervous all day. He knew where she lived, but he'd never been inside her house before. He couldn't fathom it. He skipped fifth hour with a friend to light up, to calm his nerves. When he'd met her at her car after school, she'd wrinkled her nose and averted her eyes.

"We're not doing this tonight," she mumbled.

He was relieved and cautious at the same time. "Why not?"

"Bender…you smell like you just walked out of a head shop. What would my parents say?"

He'd stepped out of her car, too sick with himself to say word.

She'd never asked him to stop. He knew she didn't really care, as long as he wasn't high when they were together. But it was the disappointment in her voice, the shame that drowned him, that made him kick the habit.

But he'd never told her that.

He jiggled his knee, teeth gritted. "I don't care what she does. She can go with Michael or Mitch or whatever his name is and have a blast. See if I do anything."

"If you don't do anything, then she will."

Those words felt like a death sentence. Allison looked like the judge who had sent him to a correctional facility three years ago, peering at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. The only difference now was that Allison probably did.

"Shit," he grumbled. "Where is she now?"

"I haven't seen her since this morning. She's probably with her preppy –"

"No." He cracked his knuckles. He needed a smoke. He stood, storming out of the cafeteria and out onto the grounds. Allison followed until they were behind the kitchens. He sat down on a fuse box and pulled a pack of matches out of his pocket. He lit one with his teeth and was soon dragging on a cigarette like it was life support.

"Did she tell you to tell me all this?" he demanded, glaring at her. He was pissed, pissed at Claire, pissed at Allison, pissed at himself.

"No. Not really. I think she wanted me to though."

"Why wouldn't she just tell me herself?"

"You scare her sometimes."

That hurt. He looked down, flicking ash. "She said that?"

Allison climbed up beside him, folding her legs beneath her. "She said, when you're angry you lash out…not physically. You say things that sound like you hate her, like you want to hurt her…like you don't care. She talked about last Saturday…"

Last Saturday. He leaned his head back against the wall, remembering. His dad had been wasted even earlier than usual. His mom had taken the day off from work; she'd had the flu. They must have run out of booze, his dad was going through drawers and cabinets, looking between couch cushions for spare change.

"Rhonda, I need some cash," he roared at last.

She came into the room timidly, wringing her hands. "I don't have anything on me…"

"Lying bitch, I know you have something."

"It all went toward groceries and the electric bill…"

"Lazy, good for nothing whore!" Smack. "Then why aren't you at work?"

"I'm sick, I'm sick!" she shrieked, ducking blows. "Talk to John, he might have something."

John inwardly groaned. He was tired and buzzed otherwise he would have been hiding in his room, but now he was in a vulnerable position in the living room. He rose from the couch and made his way to the front door as quietly as he could.

"John, get your ass over here and give your old man some money."

His wallet felt unusually heavy in his pocket. He'd worked for this money, hours in the shop. He'd been planning to take Claire out somewhere nice, show her that he could be classy too. There was this expensive Italian joint downtown she'd said she wanted to go to…

"I'm broke," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"Not after all those days you worked at the shop, you scummy brat. Get over here."

"Dad, I don't have anything…"

"Quit lying you ungrateful…"

He didn't hear the rest of it; he could only hear a ringing in his ears as his dad laid one onto him, on his cheek, on his left eye. That was going to leave a mark. Then there was a punch to the back of his head, a knee to the ribs. He fumbled for his wallet with trembling hands.

His dad snatched it greedily, but not before giving him a kick in the ribs. "Now get out of my sight!"

He did. He'd stumbled out the front door. He lit a cigarette. It was a cloudy night; even the street lights seemed dim. He walked without a distinct idea of where he was going, but he knew where he would end up. He was surprised he wasn't stopped by a cop, a hooligan like him tromping through this ritzy neighborhood. He stopped when he reached the largest house on the block; four stories, wrap-around balconies on the two top floors. There was a large trellis on the side of the structure. He ascended rapidly, fearful he might break it. He managed to scramble onto the balcony after banging his knee against the railing.

He crept to her window, pressing close to the glass. There she was, stretched out across her enormous bed. It had a frilly canopy, like a princess's bed should have. She was surrounded by pillows and various stuffed animals. He shook his head. He should have known she was the type to cuddle with a teddy bear.

Who was he to talk? After all, he was only playing peeping Tom with his girlfriend. This was ridiculous. He didn't know why he came. He tried to stand softly; he didn't want to wake her up.

For some unearthly reason, he slipped and fell back with a definitive thud. He swore loudly. He could only hope no one had heard him. All he needed was to be accused for attempted breaking and entering. It wouldn't be the first time.

He heard the door scrape open. He wanted to disappear.

"Bender?" she asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Cherry." Quick, think of something cool… "Just checking out the lifestyle of the rich and famous. You ever think of a child sleeping on the streets in Africa when you're laying on that puffy bed?"

"You looked into my room?" She shook her head. "You're such a perv."

"I prefer misunderstood."

"Yeah, that too." She came over to stand beside him. "But seriously, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the railing. "Nowhere better to be."

"Uh huh…John!" She gasped, taking hold of his face. "Your eye…what happened?"

He tried to pull away. "Nothing."

"That's not 'nothing'. Did you get in a fight?"

"Not exactly…"

"Then what was it?" She paused, lips pursed. "Did your dad do this to you?"

She knew. He shouldn't have blown up in detention that day, blabbing about his family. It felt like he'd grown spikes, grotesque, dangerous spikes. Maybe it was more like he'd been thrown into a puddle of mud, and Claire was a pure white swath of satin, seeing him in his full array of hideousness. He hated himself for that…He hated that she had to see.

"You don't know _anything_ about my dad," he snarled, jerking away from her touch.

Her brown eyes glistened. "I'm sorry, it's just that what you said in detention…"

"Forget what I said in detention. That was shit. Don't you ever bring up what I said that day." He could hear the edge in his voice, cutting like a knife.

"Okay, calm down. Forgive me for being concerned when you show up outside my window in the middle of the night with bruises all over you…"

"Cut it Claire. I don't need the attitude. I'm done. There's no point talking to you."

"Then just get out!" she shouted. "Why do you even bother coming if you're going to get hateful?"

"Why do you have to take everything so damn personally?" He was an inch from her face. He couldn't stop yelling even if he had tried. "You are such a spoiled shit! You think you know everything! Well let me tell you, you don't know a damned thing about me or my life, and don't pretend that you do!"

She was angry enough to cry. She stormed away from him, and slammed the door behind her.

When he saw her at school the next morning, he mumbled an apology. She didn't seem upset. He thought maybe she wasn't.

He must have been wrong.

Now he felt like a monster. He was a monster. He tossed the cigarette aside. He wanted to throw something.

"Well…It was good while it lasted," he mumbled when he noticed Allison was waiting for him to say something.

"You are such a wimp, John Bender."

"Yeah? Well you're a freak."

She grinned, as if proud of that title. "Thank you. But you're just gonna give up like that?"

"If she wants to leave me, there's nothing I can do." He shrugged. "I don't beg."

"You don't have to beg."

"I don't like to have to do anything."

"Well…sorry." She shrugged. "It's time to step out of your comfort zone John Bender."

"And do what? Tell her how much of a worthless ass hole I am? Tell her that my dad knocks me around like a piece of shit? She already knows all of that."

"Talk to her John." She patted him on the knee. "That's all she wants." She stood and began to wander off toward the football field.

"Well you know what I want?" he shouted after her. "A joint!"

(Space)

Bender skipped the rest of the day. He'd tiptoed through the ritzy neighborhood, expecting to see the Stepford Wives materialize at any moment. When he'd climbed clumsily up the balcony he'd assumed someone would call the cops; as he lay on the massive bed, he expected to hear a siren at any minute.

He didn't feel like looking around. He was too nervous. So he did what he always did when he was stressed – stretched out across the bed and took a nap.

The sound of a car door slamming woke him up. Years of hearing his dad pound up the stairs while he was sleeping and beat him for no good reason had conditioned him. Instead of escaping like he normally did, today he shook sleep out of his eyes and propped himself up against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head. He listened to her walk slowly up the steps. He was electrified. It was all he could do to keep from bolting out on the balcony and racing away.

She came into the room with a sigh. He held his breath. She didn't notice him. She dropped her backpack and went straight to her vanity, playing with her hair. He held back a snicker.

"Vanity is one of the seven deadly sins, you know," he said when he'd regained his composure.

She started and gave a shriek. "John Bender! What are you doing here?"

"Just looking after your immortal soul."

"Why are you in my room? This is- this is breaking and entering!"

"I didn't break anything," he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "You should lock your balcony door Claire. Creeps can just creep right on in while you're snoozing in your frilly cradle." He patted the pillows for emphasis.

"Did you go through any of my things?" She rushed over to her dresser and cast him a worried look.

Now he was offended. "No. I wouldn't invade your privacy _that much._"

She blushed and wrung her hands. "Oh."

He wasn't sure how to begin. He shifted awkwardly, running a hand over his face. "So…um…I talked to Allison today…"

He watched for a sign of shock or tension in her face; there wasn't any.

"…and she said that you said…well, not that you really said but, um, you implied…Claire, just come here," he breathed, heart pounding.

She sat down on the edge of the bed wordlessly, pulling at a ruffle.

He sat up and crossed his legs. He took a deep breath and plunged.

"See Claire, the thing about me is…that I'm an ass," he began, his mouth feeling unusually dry, "and I'm a hypocrite, and I'm an idiot. I say stupid things I don't mean and I don't think before I say those things and I usually say them to the people that I care most about…which is you." He paused. "It was my dad last Saturday…it was him on Monday too."

"I know," she replied softly, her blank expression unreadable. Bender interpreted it as contempt and was afraid to divulge more, but he couldn't stop himself. It was like his mouth was a stubborn motor that had finally started to work and now refused to stop.

"I hate it," he explained weakly. "I shouldn't have said anything in detention. Andy got me wound up. But when I yelled at you…I was yelling at me. It hurts me when I hurt you Claire. The things I said…I just don't want you to see _this._ Because I'm really a sappy piece of shit." He gulped. "And…that's it."

She stroked his cheek. "I never see a sappy piece of shit."

He scowled. "You're insane Claire. Clinically insane. And they think Allison is the one who's messed up. I can't buy you nice things, take you nice places…The only thing I can do is drag my problems into your pristine life."

She scoffed. "You call this life pristine? Do you know why my parents aren't home? They're not at work. Dad's on vacation in the Bahamas with his current girlfriend, and Mom's visiting my older brother at some rehab facility in New York."

"So you're telling me…You're in this gigantic castle alone, and you don't lock your balcony door?"

"Don't change the subject Bender."

"I'm not," he said sternly. "You really are insane. Don't you see how easy it is for me to get in here? None of your neighbors even noticed... A psychopath could climb in here and- and- why are you laughing?"

"If I didn't know better, I could swear that you're actually _worried _about me!" she gasped out between giggles.

"Yeah? Well what if I am?" he snapped. "I'm not a total insensitive jerk. I- I do care." The phrase felt lumpy and thick on his tongue. "And I'm never gonna say that again!"

"Okay grumpy."

"I'm gonna have to make up for all of this sentimentality by being more of an ass than usual. Consider yourself forewarned."

"How nice of you to let me know."

He gazed at her, her flaming red hair, her glistening lips, caring eyes, smooth skin…How did he ever get so lucky. He hesitated, fearing the pain that this next statement would cause him.

"I'm a selfish bastard Claire…"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"No really, listen. I'm only gonna say this once. But first…" He pulled her to him forcefully, pushing his lips against hers and kissing her with such passion it felt like he was saying good-bye. They were locked until she pulled away, thrilled and frightened at the same time.

"John, what…"

"Just wait. Claire, you're a princess. I'm a…" He searched for a deprecating word. "I'm a criminal. We move in…different circles."

She paled. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"I just told you that I'm a selfish bastard. It may not be best for you, but I'm gonna stick around. So don't count on me ducking out."

"It's good that I'm so crazy then, isn't it?"

"Claire…"

"Shh." She placed a finger over his lips. "Don't screw it up. And don't say anything crude," she said hurriedly, realizing her mistake.

"Me? Crude? And here I am trying to save your immortal soul."

"Yeah, by playing peeping Tom and breaking into my house!"

He assumed a pious air. "Do as I say, not as I do."

She was about to respond when the phone rang. Of course she had one in her room. He laid back against the pillows again and yawned.

"Hello?" she answered sweetly. "Oh, hey Mark…"

Bender stiffened. He reached out and began to stroke her back slowly, hoping to provide a distraction.

"That works for me," she said after a pause. "I don't have to be back until 1 o' clock…What restaurant?...I love Japanese!...Who all is going?"

Bender started to tickle her ribs.

She laughed outright, squirming and twisting. She swatted his hand away. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you…I'm sorry can you say that again?" Her face fell. "Mark, I think you misunderstood me. I would really like to go with you to homecoming _only_ as a friend. I'm already seeing someone."

The little shit had the nerve to ask her out. This was the last straw. Bender grabbed the phone out of her hand.

"…It's totally cool," Mark was saying. "Even if it is just the two of us, it doesn't have to get romantic…"

"Excuse me, son," Bender cut in with a rugged, deep voice he hoped passed for a middle aged man, "but there's something you should know about my daughter before you take her out."

"Bender, give me the phone!" Claire hissed, making a dive for it; Bender avoided her.

"You see, she wasn't originally my _daughter_."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Mark said uneasily.

"Let's put it this way; we used to call her Carl."

"I am gonna kill you!" she shrieked. She lunged at him, knocking him off the bed. He rolled over and put his arm over his head, protecting the phone.

It was harder to keep from laughing now. "I hope that you're an open minded individual Mark. I sure know Claire is."

"Oh um…I…see." He could practically hear him gulp. "Well I er…gotta get going Mr. Standish. It was nice…talking to you."

"Nice talking to you too, my boy. I do hope you take a fancy to my Claire. It would be great to have a son again."

Bender scrambled for the receiver and slammed the phone down.

"Why did you do that?" She was pounding his chest relentlessly, her face as red as her hair. "You jack ass, now everyone is going to be talking about me!"

"I gave you forewarning," he reminded her.

"Mark is gonna think I'm a freak, John! He'll probably never talk to me again!"

Bender shook his head sadly. "What a loss. But friends don't have secrets Claire."

"Right, because you're Mr. Honesty. Oh, and now I don't have a date to the dance! Get out of my house!"

"What mood swings! Do you think you're going through the change?"

"OUT!" She was kicking at him now. "I never want to talk to you again!"

He clasped his hands with mock desperation. "I don't know how I'll survive."

She shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face.

(Space)

Claire was still pissed at Bender when she was getting ready for the dance. She didn't even want to go anymore, but she was going to just to spite him.

What an ass to pull that with her! And after he had been so sweet...She'd find a way to get him back. He would rue the day…

She straightened her dress with a sigh. It was a gauzy, white strapless with a bubble skirt that ended just above her knees. She liked it because it showed off her figure. She didn't like that there'd be no one around to admire it.

A tap at her window pane caught her attention. She shouldn't have been surprised that it was Bender, he'd been here so many times in a span of a few days, but she was still taken aback. She shook her head and glared at him before sitting down at her vanity and pretending to be absorbed in fixing her mascara.

She heard him try to the open the door and grinned. She'd taken his advice and locked it.

Then a hideously loud and off-key voice began to bellow, "We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind. 'Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance well they're no friends of mine…"

They could probably hear him down the entire street. She rushed over and opened the door with a scowl that changed into a look of genuine confusion.

He was wearing a grey button down that may have at one time been white, a tie that wasn't tied, and slacks. The unruly gentleman look suited him more than she would have liked to admit.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, unable to look away.

"Going to hell in a hand basket," he grumbled, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. "I look like a freaking dumbass…"

"No, not at all. It's…nice." She smiled. "Do you know how to fix a tie?"

"Yes," he lied. "And no I'm not tying it. Those things are like leashes."

She giggled. "So…may I ask why you're all dressed up?"

"I just told you, going to hell- I mean, homecoming, with you."

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

He shrugged. "Ain't got nothing better to do."

She knew that wasn't why, but she didn't contradict him. Her anger was rapidly melting away. She leaned in and kissed him softly on the neck.

For the first time ever, she saw him blush.

He cleared his throat. "I um…picked this up on the way here. I didn't know what color you were wearing…"

He pulled a box out of his pocket. In it was a bright red corsage.

She swallowed a snicker. "John…corsages are for prom."

"Damnit." His face flushed even deeper. "You can just throw it away then, or something…"

"I like it." She took the box from him and slipped the flower on her wrist. "Thank you."

They stood in an awkward silence, each avoiding the other's gaze. Claire listened to his rushed, heavy breathing with contentment. How he could infuriate her and then make her swoon in such a short amount of time was inconceivable.

"We should get going," she said at last. "I need to find my keys…"

"No need. Your chariot awaits." He bowed and gestured over the balcony.

She looked down. A motorcycle that had seen better days was perched in the driveway.

"But…my hair!" she cried.

"Don't worry, it'll still be there." He patted her on the shoulder. "Come on." He began to climb over the railing.

"You can use the stairs this time. I swear Bender, if you kill me on that thing…"

"I'll obey all the rules of the road. I'll be an exemplary citizen." And he would. He didn't want to be pulled over – his license had expired two months ago.

"I guess there's a first time for everything."

There was indeed a first time for everything. There was first time for John Bender to wear a tux, a first time for him to go to a school dance, a first time for him to have a girlfriend…not just a friend with benefits. After tonight, he was going to reward himself with a much earned joint for the first time in three weeks…if he survived, that is.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I decided to make this longer than a two-shot…but it's still gonna be short. Thanks for the reviews guys! Lemme know what you think of this one!

Darkness49: Yeah, I thought about the time frame too, but I didn't want to send them to prom yet…that would mean the year is almost over and if I write any other fics I would have to take that into account. So I changed it. Mwahaha! But thank you! 

Chapter 2

Claire held onto Bender for dear life. She'd never been on a motorcycle before. She'd often thought it would be fun in a rebellious sort of way; her dad would die if he knew. The only enjoyable part of it now was the closeness between her and John. She laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

He smelled cleaner than usual.

Heads turned as they pulled into the school parking lot. She smoothed her hair self-consciously. She could tell it was hopeless just by feeling the curls that were sticking out at random. Surprisingly, she didn't care. It was like when she'd gone to that heavy metal concert with John a few weeks back. During the show she'd been miserable; when she got home she realized she'd had the time of her life. She was looking forward to riding the motorcycle back home…now that she had arrived safely.

He parked next to a rusty pick-up, kicking the stand and flicking his hair back with an adorable flourish.

Claire stood shakily. "Well that was an adventure."

"A princess should go on an adventure every once and a while."

"What does that make you, my knight in shining armor?"

"Nah, I'm the evil ogre." He took her hand with a roguish grin.

(Space)

John Bender was barely able to hold himself together. His friends were never going to let him live this one down. He was whipped.

The chaperones were checking ID's before any of the students could go through the entrance. Bender's favorite administrator just happened to be fulfilling this office.

"Hey Dick," he said when his turn came, spreading his arms and moving in for a hug.

"Don't you touch me Bender."

"I'm sorry sir, I'm just so happy to see you tonight. It's funny, being in the place that I just want to be in at this moment with all of the people I want to see." He heaved a contented sigh.

"Give me your card." Vernon observed the plastic ID for a total of three minutes, searching for a flaw.

"Well," he admitted at last, "you're good to go in."

Bender wasn't sure if this was relieving or agonizing, but he pretended to be pleased.

"But if I catch you so much as moving the wrong way, I swear I will have your ass in detention before you open your puny mouth," Vernon spat out, earning him a scandalized look from the other chaperone.

"I'm flattered Dick, but I'm afraid I'm not into guys, and statutory rape would not be a wise move at this junction in your career." With that said, Bender rushed through the door with Claire in tow.

It was a blur of sequins and frills and suits. Although he hadn't read Dante's Inferno like he was supposed to his sophomore year, he knew enough to believe this was his own personal hell. "Billie Jean" was blaring from the speakers, although few people were dancing as of yet. Snooty guys with snooty girls hanging on their arms cast him a disinterested glance before snickering to their friends and walking away. Bender's jaw clenched. If they were on his turf he'd show them…

"Look, it's Andy and Allison! Let's go say hi."

He followed Claire without response, hands shoved into his pockets. He thrust his head back defiantly. He wanted to make sure these people knew how much he hated to be here, and how much he hated them.

Andy and Allison were standing by the refreshments table, sipping punch. The jock gave them a wave when he noticed they were coming over.

"Decided to show?" he asked Bender.

"What's it look like to ya?" He walked over to the punch bowl and helped himself to a cup.

"Claire, we heard something interesting about you today," Allison said wryly, sharing a grinning glance with Andy.

Claire sighed. "It's all Bender's fault! He started it, he told Mark..."

"It's all right Claire, we still accept you!" Andy snickered maliciously.

"Oh shut-up!"

Bender took a sip of the punch. This shit was weak. He reached into his pocket conspicuously and pulled out a flask. He wanted to do this without getting caught but he also wanted Claire to see so he could get on her nerves…

She noticed. "John, what are you doing?"

"Giving the refreshments a little kick," he explained innocently, dumping the entire flask of Jack Daniels into the punch bowl.

"You're gonna get us kicked out!" Andy hissed, grabbing his arm. "Do you want us to end up in detention again?"

"Relax sporto. Give a teacher a couple glasses of this and they'll be your best friend by the end of the night." He took a swig from the serving spoon. "That's better. Would you like a drink Claire?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. And don't you have too many, you're driving me home on that monstrosity, remember?"

She had a point. And if he got pulled over…He set the spoon down reluctantly.

"Rio" was playing now. "Oh, I love this song!" Claire gushed. "John, let's go dance!"

Bender's first instinct was to shout "I'm not dancing to that shit!", but a warning look from Allison stopped him.

"Why not?" he said at last, doing his best to sound enthusiastic.

His best wasn't much better than his worst.

He put himself through Spandaux Ballet's "True" and Culture Club's "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me". When that last song came on, he couldn't help but think Claire really did like to see him miserable. He wasn't even sure how you were supposed to dance to this crap. Other couples were doing a slow dance but he wasn't having that. He already looked like enough of a dork.

Speaking of dorks, while he was trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to move his body and spying surreptitiously on other people, he spotted Brian in the middle of the dance floor. He looked possessed; his head was lolling around and his limbs were flailing in every direction. A crowd of girls were standing by and laughing at him, but not in a mean way. It was more in a, "Aw, look at the poor baby!" way.

When they started playing Journey, Bender knew he had to pull out before he lost his mind. "Let's go see what Allison and jock-strap are doing," he mumbled. Claire nodded in agreement.

Unfortunately, they had now joined Brian. Andy was almost as bad a dancer as the geek. He had no rhythm. Allison was off in la-la land, spinning in circles and waving her arms like she was on an acid trip in the middle of Woodstock.

"Oh my god," Claire gasped, her face flushing. "There's Mark. Quick, let's go."

"Where's he at?"

"Over there! Now come on…"

Mark was disproportionately tall, his head didn't look big enough, but he had startling blue eyes and coal black hair. His eyes landed on Claire and his mouth clamped shut. Bender sniggered. He had to have some fun with this before the night was over.

"Do you want me to go straighten everything out?" he offered.

"Yes!"

"All right, wait here."

Was she ever gullible. He strolled over casually, glancing back at Claire, who had noticed some friends and was talking to them.

"Hey Mark."

"Do I know you?" he asked coldly.

"Nah, but you know my date. I know she was supposed to go with you but plans changed…No hard feelings, right?"

"None whatsoever."

"Cool." He sighed. "Claire is sure great…I never thought I'd meet a girl like her. I didn't even know girls liked football so much. You should see her tackle Andy. It's intense. And she has the greatest singing voice…She tried out for the girls' choir but they told her that her voice was too deep, more of a baritone…"

Mark gulped. "Look, there's something you should know…"

"Well I should get back to her. See you around, Mark!"

He strutted off with a chuckle.

(Space)

He didn't want to interrupt Claire's chat with the valley girls, so he took a seat on the bleachers. Three weeks ago, he'd never have imagined that he would end up at a school dance. It was barely believable to him now. It was bizarre how one Saturday could turn his life upside down.

White Christmas light had been strung up inside the gym. Paper Mache came down from the ceiling and went out to stick on the walls. He'd been expecting a disco ball, but there wasn't one. The DJ lounged against the turn table, glaring at the students. Bender wondered if DJ's ever retired. He wondered if he could ever be a DJ. He decided against it, since he would tell half of the dumbasses who had requested this terrible shit, "NO!"

He spotted Andy and Allison in the crowd. They'd chilled out and were dancing slowly. His arms were looped about her waist, hers resting on his shoulders. Their foreheads pressed together. They were both grinning impishly.

It made Bender wanna puke.

At the end of that infamous Saturday, he'd thought those two wouldn't last the week. In a way, he'd almost hoped they wouldn't. It would be comforting to know they were as lonely as he was; it would mean that when Claire ignored him, it wouldn't hurt so much because Andy had ignored Allison. Then he could just say, "Rich spoiled shit. Shoulda known." But when he saw them sitting together on Monday morning, and Tuesday morning, and Wednesday, and Thursday, and…He knew he'd been wrong. He also knew that he was scared shitless and there was no way in hell he was gonna talk to Claire.

But Claire had other plans.

And here he was, like a trained dog. He fiddled with the earring she'd given him, absent-minded. Being with her was like taking a cruise; he knew eventually the boat would dock and he'd have to get off.

That song by Simple Minds came on, "Don't You Forget About Me". He hated that this song always made him think of her. He ran his hands through his hair and thought about hitting the punch.

"Hey."

He hadn't noticed her walk up the bleachers. He wished he would have; that dress was short and her legs were fascinating. White suited her, it gave her pale skin a little color. He smirked, crossing his arms.

"Hey."

He reached out and gently stroked the back of her leg, behind the knee. He felt her tremble with satisfaction. Maybe he could persuade her to say here with him for the rest of the dance, cuddling and making out…

"Let's dance."

He held back a groan and followed her down to the floor. At least this one was more his style, even if it was main stream. They moved their way through the crowd until they were surrounded by people on all sides. Claire gave him a flirty smile and began twist fluidly to the music. Bender watched the smooth contours of her body, entranced. He joined in, jumping and stomping like he had on Saturday. He was sure he was attracting some stares, but he didn't care. "If all you fruits were with my crowd, you'd be the sore thumb."

_Will you stand above me? Look my way, never love me…_

He wondered if Claire loved him. He also knew the answer to that: no. He glanced up at her. She was smiling at him. He didn't want her to forget about him. He tried to make sure she wouldn't, by being obnoxious and rude.

_Will you recognize me? Call my name or walk on by me…_

Damnit he was hooked. He'd shelved dope just to choose a new addiction. He loved her. He couldn't help it; it was a runaway train, out of his control, and she was the conductor.

But he would never tell her, not even if a gun was held to his head.

He realized he'd been moving closer to her. They were now scarcely an inch apart. He slowed, breathing heavily. She was flushed all the way down to her neck. Her lips parted expectantly. On instinct he took hold of her waist and pulled her to him. He felt her lips brush his neck. He flashbacked to that moment in the closet during detention; he felt like he'd left part of himself behind between the mop, or maybe in the ventilator. Either way, he'd sure changed, and he couldn't say he regretted it.

"Claire," he moaned softly, and the next thing he knew her head was on his shoulder, tucked under his chin. For the first time since he was twelve he felt butterflies in his stomach.

Somehow he and Claire managed to turn this into a slow dance. He didn't care. Screw anyone who laughed.

He didn't want to stop swaying when the song came to an end. Claire finally wiggled loose.

"Having fun?" she asked playfully.

"Do you really need to ask that?"

She was so beautiful. He had to get away before he said something stupid.

"I'm gonna go get a drink."

"Okay. I'll be here."

It was nice to know that someone was waiting for him.

(Space)

It looked like Mark needed to take it easy on the punch; he was leaning on the shoulder of one his friends, laughing and red-faced. Bender sighed. These richies couldn't hold their liquor.

He helped himself to a particularly large glass and gulped it down. It made his eyes smart. Whiskey wasn't his thing, but it was the only stuff they'd had in the house at the time. His dad had made it through all the beers. He filled his glass three more times and tossed them down.

"I've been hearing some strange stories about this punch, Bender."

Vernon was standing behind him, a glass in his own hand. The wrinkles in his forehead looked even more pronounced than usual.

"Really? I love funny stories! Care to share, Dick?"

"Don't play innocent with me. I know you put something in this drink."

"What makes you say that?"

"This tastes, it smells, just like whiskey. Now who else at this entire function would spike the punch, besides you?"

"How do you know so much about whiskey, sir? I hope you don't make a habit of drinking it, it's bad for your health."

"I'm watching you Bender. I've already got you for five more weeks. You make sure I don't add anymore on there. Until then, no one's touching this punch."

"Yes sir."

He made an effort to keep from stumbling as he made his way back to Claire. Oh boy, whiskey wasn't his poison.

(Space)

He really shouldn't drink so much on an empty stomach. At first it looked like there were three Claires and four Andys.

"Vernon giving you trouble, Bender?" someone asked. It might have been Allison.

"They're always giving me trouble. You know I've always thought it was better to give than to receive. I wish they'd let me give them some trouble."

He fell back on the bleachers, pulling Claire with him. "John!" she squealed.

"Cherry!" he mocked in an equally stunned voice.

"What's wrong with you?"

"He's _punch_ drunk," Allison giggled.

"I swear to drunk I am not God."

"John, you pig!" Claire swatted at him angrily. "Why do you have to get blasted and screw everything up?"

"Jeez, I was just joking! I'm fine. Look. Is this the face of a drunk pig to you?"

It was true. He wasn't all that drunk; it was just taking a while for the whiskey to settle.

Before she could respond, a brilliant idea struck him. "You swim princess?"

"Yeah…why?"

"Come on." He took Claire's hand and dragged her along with him roughly. Andy and Allison followed.

"Where are we going?"

"To take a dip."

"In what?" Understanding crossed her face. "Oh no. Bender, we'll get thrown out…"

"What's going on?" Brian asked eagerly, in hot pursuit.

"John's going to get us all landed in detention again."

"You don't have to go," he replied, testily. "If you'd rather stay out here with these lamoids then fine. I need to get out of this suit."

"That's not really a suit," Brian corrected. "It's more of a dress shirt and a tie and –"

"Aren't you a genius. Whatever it is, I need to get out of it."

Bender ignored their protests and glanced surreptitiously at Vernon. He was busy chewing out a couple that had gotten too friendly. Bender stomped over to the gymnasium doors, which were unlocked as if by divine intervention, and crept through.

The halls were dark and still. The chorus to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" echoed faintly and reminded Bender how much he'd fallen on the geek ladder. He didn't mind that the others hadn't immediately followed him; they would in time. He hoped.

He used his knife to jimmy the lock on the doors to the pool. The streetlamps glimmered faintly through the windows and cast shafts of light on the water's rippling surface. He stumbled over to the edge. His reflection gazed back at him sardonically. Was he ever a sight for sore eyes…He looked like someone who visited their grandma every weekend.

He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt; maybe he was more tipsy than he thought. When he was free of the shirt and tie he sat down and pulled off his shoes. He was wearing his usual clunky boots; he didn't own "dress shoes", as Brian would have put it, and he wasn't about to go buy any. He tore off his slacks and tossed them in a corner with his other clothes. Without hesitation, he cannon-balled into the middle of the pool.

The frigid water was a shock to his system. He pushed against the bottom and propelled through the surface, spluttering. In his freshman year, he'd taken swimming to get rid of his gym credit. The water had been just as frozen, and it'd been his first hour. He now remembered why he had dreaded that class.

He also hated that class because his cuts and bruises were visible. The first few times people asked him what had happened, he came up with lame excuses; "Got into a fight, fell down the stairs, bike riding accident…" Eventually people stopped asking. No one really cared.

The sound of the door creaking reverberated off the concrete walls. Claire shut it carefully.

He couldn't help himself. "You lost?"

She blushed, the memory of detention coming back to her. He liked to think part of that blush was due to the fact that he was wearing nothing but boxers.

"You are going to get in so much trouble." She walked over to the side of the pool hesitantly.

He swam over to the wall, shaking his hair like a dog. "Only if I get caught. You comin' in?"

"Is it cold?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Before she could react, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her in head-first.

"BENDER!"

Her hair hung over her face like a wet sheet. Bender suddenly realized how fortunate he was that her dress was white. It clung to her, revealing her tantalizing curves.

"You ass hole! Look what you've done! My dress is ruined! Do you know how much this cost?"

"The three cents it cost the factory owners to pay the Malaysian kid who made it?"

"Shut up, it's not funny!" She was fighting to keep a straight face. "Do you realize how much trouble we're going to be in?"

"Only if we get caught," he whispered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders; she was shivering. "Where's the others?"

"Allison and Andy are still debating. Brian's distracting Vernon."

"So we've got the pool to ourselves."

"Yep."

He was pleased to see how much that worried her.

"That dress might still be salvageable…if you got it out of the water."

"I'm not taking my dress off, Bender."

"Thought I'd at least try. It's not fair, you know. You get to admire this," he gestured to himself, leaning back in the water, "and I'm left in the cold."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, because you are _so _sexy Bender. Please. I'm going to be blind after this."

"You know you like it."

"You are such a pig."

"Just honest."

He dove underwater, reaching for the bottom of her skirt. She scrambled away at the last minute.

"Cut it out!"

"Sorry Princess. I can't help myself. It's like a reflex."

She said nothing, just glared. She really looked upset and agitated now. Reluctantly, he knew he had to back off or she would get pissed and leave.

Self-control was never his forte.

"You know, the whiskey," he mumbled, "it's not my fault…"

"Right." She headed toward the deep end. He watched her slender legs cut kick effortlessly, skirt billowing, hair flowing. When she broke through the surface, he could only stare, dazed.

A stupid guffaw escaped him. He wanted to be near her, feel her supple figure beneath his hand, but…he didn't want to swim over. He wasn't that weak.

"Aren't you afraid of the sharks, Cherry?"

"Cute, Bender."

He sighed, splashing aimlessly. "You know…I'm intoxicated. It's not very safe to swim when intoxicated. I could drown, Claire."

"If only."

"Ouch. That's cold, even for an ice princess. What if those were your last words to me?"

"Come on John, you're not gonna drown…"

"It's entirely possible. Did you ever hear that law of probability thing, where some scientist said that every time you press your finger on a window pane there's a chance that it could go right through?"

"Yeah, right." She floated to the side and lifted herself out of the pool. Her shoes felt terrible…They had already been killing her feet, now they were just disgusting. She unbuckled them with distaste.

"John, these are completely ruined, and this is the first time I got to wear them."

There was no cutting response. She looked up. He was floating face down, arms spread out like a martyr. She rolled her eyes.

"Very funny, Bender."

He didn't move.

She crossed her arms, standing and beginning to pace the pool side. She was determined not look at him; his stunt didn't deserve recognition. She was tempted to go back to the dance, but she couldn't in her current state. She looked like a drowned rat. She could only imagine what her friends would say. After all, going out with Bender pretty much meant she'd committed popularity suicide…She waited a minute before turning back to the pool.

Bender was still in the same position, completely still. Despite herself she felt a catch in her throat.

"Bender, cut it out," she snapped. "It's not funny anymore." Not that it ever was.

Still no response.

"Bender. Bender?"

She tried to remember how long a person could hold their breath.

"John!" she shouted.

Unable to stay on the sidelines, she leaped into the pool and plunged over rather clumsily.

"John! John!"

It felt like it took ages for her to reach him. She grabbed his shoulders and lifted his head out of the water. To her surprise, he burst out laughing, spluttering her face with water. She felt her cheeks catch fire.

"You bas-" she began angrily, but was cut off as his lips sealed hers with a kiss.

It was too fierce a kiss for someone who had held their breath for almost four minutes, but then again John wasn't your average guy. His hands stroked her back, pressing her to him like he was afraid she would pull away. She wouldn't have been able to even if she'd wanted. Her hands were intertwined with his shaggy hair. She was holding on just as tightly.

He broke free after what seemed like the shortest eternity. He was breathless. "Claire," he murmured, "please…"

"John, no." She could hear the weakness in her own voice.

"Claire…Claire…" He repeated her name like a mantra in between kisses he planted firmly on her neck.

"John…"

She could feel the muscles in his tight arms. She ran a hand down his back; it grazed what felt like a deep, rough scar.

They didn't notice the screech of the opening doors. But they did notice the slightly lisping, nasally voice shouting, "Guys, guys, Vernon's onto you! Oh…I see…hehe…"

Claire detached herself delicately. Bender wanted to punch that stupid geek out. Just when things were getting good…

"Didn't you hear me?" Brian exclaimed. "I hate to interrupt you in the throes of passion, but Vernon is COMING!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! Here is the third and final chapter. I hope that you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Chapter 3

"Aw shit!" Bender splashed over to the railing, Claire in hot pursuit. He raced over to his clothes and flew past Brian into the hallway. He could hear the patter of Claire's bare-feet and the clomp of Brian's "dress shoes" following him.

"Guys, there's no point in running. You're dripping everywhere, he'll know where to find you."

"Shut-up!" Bender and Claire roared.

Bender had no idea where he was going, and he didn't care. The adrenaline rush filled him with confidence. He was really pushing some buttons, running around the school at night during a function, practically naked.

He stopped suddenly, grabbing the neck of Brian's sweater. "Go get sporto. Tell him to pull around by the west entrance."

"Okay!" And Brian was off.

Bender shook his head. "I'll be damned if he isn't caught. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

He didn't answer. Instead he dragged her into the closet that he'd been locked into during detention.

It was too dark to see a thing. He shushed Claire, who was protesting rather noisily, and pulled out a match, lighting it with his teeth. He glanced about at the ceiling until he spotted the panel he'd slid through before. He blew the match out and stepped forward, hoping for the best.

"You better not try to put the moves on me while we're in here, Bender, or I'll –"

"Calm down and be quiet! I'm trying to get us out of here." He gritted his teeth, frustrated that he hadn't the time to do what she was so obstinately against.

He knocked his shin against something solid. He swore under his breath, climbing onto what he thought was the shelf. He reached upward until his hand touched the grating. He pushed; he heard it scrape open. Thankfully the pile of junk he'd assembled hadn't been disturbed. Shoving the bundle of his clothes under his arm, he continued to climb.

"Take my hand," he mumbled, despising the clichéd line.

"I can't see it!"

"Here!" He thrust his arm outward, not knowing she was standing so close until he whacked her in the nose.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Just take my stupid hand, okay? We don't have much time!"

She grumbled under her breath but listened to him. Her slender fingers were surprisingly cold. He pulled her up to stand beside him on the shelf.

"I'm going to lift you up," he explained. "You're going to climb into the ventilator."

"Into the what?! Bender, my dress!"

"Damn it Claire, just do it!"

"Okay, stop yelling at me!"

Scowling, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her sharply. The knock that sounded alerted him to the fact that he must have rammed her head into the ceiling. He grinned. As she shimmied into the ventilator, the end of her skirt was practically kissing his face. He wished the light was on. He gradually slid his arms up her legs.

The powerful kick she gave to his face told him that there was to be none of that.

Once she was inside, he quickly followed her. "Start going forward," he whispered, thinking this environment gave him even better chances of harassing her.

She was on the same page. She scuttled forward at such a rapid pace that he found it hard to keep up with her.

"If you keep going so fast, they're gonna hear us."

"They're already after us, who gives a shit?"

She had a point. "Hey Cherry, you ever hear the one where a naked blonde walks into a bar with a two-foot under one arm salami and a Chihuahua under the other?"

"No. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Remember when I fell out of the roof in the library?"

"Yeah- Oh shit!"

Apparently they'd gotten there faster than he'd anticipated. Claire tumbled forward through the new "entrance" that Bender had created last Saturday and was now in the process of being reconstructed; in the meantime, the entire library was off limits.

"Claire? Are you okay?"

She only whimpered in response.

These classy girls were so delicate, and he was just the sort of clumsy idiot to shatter them. In his hurry he also fell through, bumping his head against a beam.

"Aw shit!" He rolled over, cradling his bruised crown. "Claire? Are you all right?"

She was crumpled on the floor, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "Does it look like I'm all right?" she said in a venomously quiet voice. "My dress is ruined, my hair has gone to hell, and I just fell eight feet from a dusty, moldy ventilator. DO I LOOK LIKE I'M ALL RIGHT?!"

"Well that's gonna put the construction workers back a couple of weeks. You need to start cutting back on the sushi, Claire."

"Don't you even –" She raised her fists, ready to pummel the life out of him.

"Hey, hey," he said soothingly, pulling her over to him and cradling her in his lap. "Are you sure you're okay? Are you…hurt?" The concerned statements tasted like overly sweet caramel. He was turning into such a lame ass…

"Just a little…my knees…"

He ran his hand over them, afraid he'd feel a scrape or the damp kiss of blood. She winced. They were only bruised. This still bothered him more than it should.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah…" she whined, sniffling.

He smirked. Claire loved sympathy.

"We better get going then."

She stood, brushing her raggy skirt off. In the meantime he slid into his pants and boots, pulling on his shirt without bothering to button it. Claire's gaze followed him intently. The room suddenly seemed musty and dormant, intimate.

"What?" he asked, his tone hostile, although he was worried she'd noticed a cut or a bruise, or maybe just found him plain disgusting.

"Nothing."

Of course, that would be what she felt whenever she looked at him: nothing. He ignored the sting; this wouldn't be the first wound he'd sucked up.

The whiskey was starting to turn sour in his stomach. It probably hadn't helped that he'd been swigging off of his dad's bottle of Jim before he came to get Claire. And that fall wasn't treating him so nicely either…He shook his head, swallowing.

"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked stiffly.

"The window."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Got any better ideas, princess?"

"It's freezing outside! At least you have pants and a long-sleeved shirt; I've only got this skimpy thing…"

He scowled and tore off his shirt. "Here, put this on. Andy should be around back with his truck. We'll get in, he'll have the heat blasting, and you'll be snug as a bug in a rug."

"What makes you think he'll listen to you?" she asked, slipping into the shirt, which was three sizes too large for her slender frame.

It was so pleasant to see her wearing something that was his, something that declared _she_ was his, he almost forgot to answer her question.

"Sporto always does what he's told," he said at last.

"What if Allison doesn't want him to?"

"Then we're gonna freeze."

He bounded up the stairs before she could continue the interrogation. She could be so irritating and bossy sometimes…

"Why'd you come back in here?" she called from the lower floor.

He paused, leaning on the railing. "What do you mean?"

"During detention."

He grinned. "I forgot my pencil."

"You liar."

"If you want me to say it was for you than you can just forget it, because it wasn't. I wanted my dope."

That shut her up. He unlocked a window that opened over the kitchen, which was on the bottom floor and extended out from the building. They could jump onto its roof and scramble onto the ground. He couldn't see Andy's truck from here but he knew Letterman would come through.

"Okay…come here princess."

He yanked the window open. It was going to be a tight squeeze for him, but Claire should be able to wiggle out with ease.

"Go out feet first," he instructed, "and then let go. You'll land safely."

"Yeah, right," she grumbled, glaring at him. "If I die I'm going to come back and haunt you for the rest of your life."

"I wouldn't mind that so much," he said under his breath as she began to shimmy outside. He wished he'd gone down first; the view right now would be fascinating.

She fell into a frustrated huddle. She barely had time to crawl out of the way before Bender leaped down from the window and onto the flat roof.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. It hadn't felt this cold out when he'd been dry and wearing his coat…

She managed to nod, arms wrapped tightly around herself, knees knocking.

"I'm g-gonna k-kill you," she snarled.

Her threats were so endearing.

"I'm gonna go down first, all right?"

She made no protests.

Bender climbed a few feet down the drain pipe before casting his fate to the winds and letting go. He'd never been bungee jumping but he thought it sounded amazing. The sensation of plummeting through thin air, not knowing when you were going to contact the earth again, was exhilarating.

He landed on his ass. It didn't feel excellent, but it wasn't too terribly painful either. He brushed off his slacks and waved Claire onward.

She obviously wasn't as used to traipsing around roofs. Instead of going down the drainpipe, she tried to climb down the front and use the window sills as steps like it was a rock wall. Had it been anyone else, he would have found it amusing; since it was Claire, he was a bundle of nerves.

He hovered beneath her anxiously, arms outstretched in the event that she slipped. As she was trying to maneuver to reach the bottom ledge of the window, she happened to spot Bender watching her.

"You jerk!" she shrieked, letting go and pulling down her skirt, which was currently being lifted by a particularly cold breeze.

At that moment she lost her footing. It was like a siren went off in Bender's head. He didn't remember stepping over, but somehow he was beneath her and she was coming at him like a falling star. The force knocked him over, but she was secured safely in his arms.

"Whoa," Claire breathed.

"I think you cracked one my ribs," he wheezed. "Like I said, cut back on the sushi."

"Well it's your fault! If you hadn't been trying to look up my skirt…"

"I wasn't trying to look up your skirt!"

"Then what were you doing?"

Why did she always have to wring these confessions of kindness out of him? He groaned. "I was trying to make sure you wouldn't fall, all right? I was worried."

"You're lying to me again!" She pushed off of him gruffly, tugging her dress straight and shivering in the cold. "Where's Andy?"

"Claire, wait, I really wasn't –"

"I just want to go home," she exclaimed tearfully. "I'm tired and cold and my dress is ruined, and you're being an ass…"

"Shut-up! Don't you hear what I'm saying? I caught you right?"

"I guess…"

He ran a hand through his soggy hair. "Let's get you in the truck. Come on."

True to Bender's word, Andy's truck was parked in front of the north entrance, the engine roaring. Even the steam emitted from the exhaust pipe spoke of warmth and comfort.

"This better be good," he growled when Claire and John approached the open passenger window. "Allison is waiting inside."

"Alone?" Claire asked worriedly.

"No; with Brian."

At least she'd have another weirdo to keep her company.

"I need you to take her home," Bender explained, opening the door and shoving Claire inside.

"Who do you think you are, Bender, telling me what to do? What makes you think I will?"

"Because she lives five minutes from here." And because you always do what you're told.

"John, what's going on?" Claire asked petulantly, crawling into the front seat. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm not leaving my bike here. I'll see you around."

"Bender, if you think I'm gonna give your girlfriend a ride when you're already driving –"

"John, this doesn't make any sense. You'll catch cold!"

He ignored their protests and strutted off. It had been difficult, resisting the temptation of that blast of warm air through the truck's open door; but there was no way in hell he was leaving the motorcycle at this school. Being a criminal made you aware of humanity's worst.

He was shivering so hard, it was difficult to turn the key in the ignition. As soon the engine revved to life, he was suddenly struck by two beaming lights and an even louder roar. He whirled around.

A cream colored Malibu was parked directly behind him, preventing him from pulling out. In the driver's seat of that Malibu was none other than Vice Principal Vernon.

"Not so funny now, is it, Bender?" he cried manically.

Shit. Bender slammed on the gas and went flying over the patch of grass and onto the main road. The Malibu was right behind him. Vernon must have been pushing sixty on a thirty mile per hour road. Bender gritted his teeth and started doing seventy. If he got pulled over, drunk, with an expired license…This was not good.

He was closing in on a stoplight. The light was red and three cars were already stalled in front of him. Vernon was still on his tail. Without even checking, he swerved into the other lane, earning several irritated honks. He stopped at the light and craned his neck, looking for the Malibu. It was still in the other lane. He could see Vernon staring at him murderously, hungrily.

As soon as the light turned green, Bender floored it and went zooming. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to think of a location, and fast. He was afraid if he went home Vernon would find some way to follow him there. He knew Vernon could look up his address in his files, probably had already, but if Vernon saw him, standing in that dilapidated shack of his home, his dad slurring at him in a rage…Bender did not want anyone to know how vulnerable he really was, and Vernon already had a good hunch without knowing the full extent.

He arrived at a four way stop. This looked familiar. He was only a few minutes from Claire's. Ironically, the truck coming up on his left looked a lot like Andy's Bronco. He turned around. The Malibu, wheels screeching, was gunning down the road like it was in a James Bond movie. Bender shot off desperately, passing the Bronco. The Malibu didn't stop and began to follow him. Unfortunately, the Bronco had pulled out at the same time. There was a deafening crunch, and Bender was wading in a swamp of relief. He drove on at a reasonable speed.

Andy groaned. His dad was gonna kill him. He let him borrow his truck for one night and what happens? He slams it into some maniac. He pulled over to the side of the road, the Malibu following suit. Allison was probably wondering where the hell he was. Wasn't this going to be fun to explain…

(Space)

Bender climbed up the trellis and went in through the balcony door out of habit. He tried to creep down the stairs without making any noise, but he was shivering so violently it was difficult. He could hear the muffled sound of TV voices.

The Standish living room was immaculate, and very modern. Long, thin windows going from ceiling to floor overlooked by the backyard; a black sectional sofa encircled the black entertainment center. Strange vases and abstract paintings decorated the area. Family photos weren't excluded. Claire's face was plastered on practically every available wall space.

Claire was curled up on the sofa, wearing mint green pajamas with white polka-dots. She would have continued watching whatever TV program she was absorbed in, had the bottom step not squeaked.

She whirled around, jaw dropped. "Bender, I thought you went home…"

"You thought wrong. Stairs aren't supposed to squeak in shiny new mansions, Claire."

She pretended not to hear this last remark. Instead, she stomped over and dragged him in front of the fireplace. "Wait here," she ordered.

He waited.

She returned with the most monstrous sweater Bender had ever seen. It was covered with Christmas trees, penguins, and splotches of red and grey.

"I'm not wearing that thing."

She sighed. "Bender, if you don't you'll catch cold."

"You've got have something less…evil."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"Yeah, right." He snatched the sweater from her and pulled it over his head. She was doing this just to punish him, and he was cold enough to fall into the trap.

"How do I look?" he inquired prissily, running his hands over the lumpy material.

She snorted. "You don't wanna know."

He pretended to look offended. "Are you saying this sweater makes me look fat?"

"Just a little."

"You're just jealous because you know you wouldn't be able to pull this look off."

She rolled her eyes and sat down beside him, crossing her legs. A few moments later and she was leaning against his shoulder.

"Sorry I went to homecoming yet?" he asked teasingly, nuzzling her fluffy hair with his chin.

He could feel her smile. "No."

"No?"

"Tonight was the best homecoming I've ever had."

There was a stick of warm butter where his heart was supposed to be, and it was slowly melting into the pit of his stomach. He sat still as she slowly lifted to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing the lobe ever so slightly, like a feather in a summer breeze.

"You're insane, you infuriate me to end, I hate you, I can't be without you, and I'll always have the time of my life as long as you're there with me." She giggled. "I don't think I've ever gone swimming or crawled through a shaft at a dance before…Kind of an adventure, and like you said, a princess needs an adventure every once in a while."

Ah, joy of joy's. She didn't know what she was doing to him. "You shouldn't trust me with that information," he managed to say, barely a kink in his voice despite his riled passions. "I have a license to be a jerk now."

"I know." Her eyes ran over his face caressingly. "That's why I told you."

He hesitated. "Do you still feel the same way?"

"About what?" she asked softly, running a hand through his hair.

"The way you felt when you talked to Alison this morning."

"I didn't talk to Alison this morning."

He froze. "But Alison told me that…" Her expression was increasingly confused. His face grew warm. So the Basket-case had told him a fast one, and he'd been foolish enough to fall for it. He knew why he'd fallen for it, because he'd fallen so hard for Claire. The only thing he didn't know was why Alison had done it.

Of course; she was a compulsive liar. Still didn't explain how she knew about Saturday…It could have just been a lucky guess. Allison was uncannily intuitive.

"Forget it," he mumbled, and snipped the string of words between them by enveloping her lips with his.

THE END


End file.
